She swiped at the tears but more came. “Kirby has his reasons for not telling you, and I had mine. I didn’t think of the age difference between us back then, but Kirby was right about someone maybe using it to arrest you. The main reason I didn’t tell you was because I was worried you wouldn’t go through with college.”
“I wouldn’t have,” Dallas snapped. “But that was a decision for me and me alone to make.” He couldn’t help it, Dallas cursed again. “Hell, no wonder you wouldn’t see me or answer my calls. You didn’t want me to know I was about to be a father.”
That was one thing explained. He’d never been able to figure out how Joelle could go from red-hot to ice-cold in such a short period of time, but yeah, a pregnancy would do it. Part of him hurt to the core that she’d had to go through that alone. At seventeen, no less. But another part of him just hurt.
“You need time,” Joelle murmured.
“I’m not sure that’ll help.” But it was the pain talking. He did need time. He had to sort all of this out and come to terms with what he’d lost.
And what he had lost was his baby.
The lump in his throat was so thick he wasn’t sure he could breathe. It felt as if someone had a fist clamped around his heart.
God, he hadn’t expected anything to hurt this much.
His phone buzzed again, and he nearly bashed it on the porch, but then he saw it wasn’t Owen and his troublemaking attempts this time. Nor was it a message.
It was a call from Clayton.
The last thing Dallas wanted to do was talk to anyone, but he knew in his gut that his brother wouldn’t have called if it weren’t important. And with all the irons they had in the fire, it was a call he had to take.
“Yeah?” Dallas answered, unable to hold back the anger and other emotion in his voice.
“Uh,” Clayton said. “You okay?”
Dallas ignored that question and went with one of his own. “Why’d you call?”
“I thought you’d want to know that I’m out at Rocky Creek.”
That was the last place one of them should be right now. “What are you doing there? What went wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong. I’m actually calling with some good news. From the sound of things, you could use it right about now.”
“Yeah,” Dallas said. He glanced at Joelle. She was pacing now. And still crying. Hell’s bells. What a tangled mess this was.
“I’ve been here for about a half hour,” Clayton continued. “Quietly observing the CSI team. Not with Saul’s permission or knowledge, but I called in a few favors. Don’t worry. I’m not in the actual building. Figured I wouldn’t want to call into question anything they might find.” He paused. “They found some things, Dallas.”
Even though he doubted Joelle could have heard what Clayton said, she must have sensed something because she stopped pacing and moved closer. Dallas wasn’t feeling very generous, but he put the call on speaker so she could hear.
“The initial tests indicate that it’s Webb’s blood on the window frame. Better yet, it’s a cast-off pattern consistent with someone who plunged the knife into Webb and then drew it back to stab him again.”
“Any way to use the pattern to determine the killer?” Joelle asked.
“They’re working on it,” Clayton answered. “Not just the blood on the frame, but there are spatters on the wall invisible to the naked eye that the luminol lit up. They might be able to get some details about where the attack started. And who started it.”
Good. Luminol was a chemical spray that could detect even small amounts of blood. Too bad Dallas’s mind was still in a horrible place right now because this conversation was important.
“From what I heard from my contact inside,” Clayton went on, “there was some indication of blood on the floor, too.”
Joelle shook her head. “Why wasn’t this detected sixteen years ago?”
“Because it wasn’t tested, that’s why. Webb was just a missing person, and the local sheriff then checked for any signs of foul play, but he missed the spatter on the frame.”
Easy to miss. The sunlight had been just right for Joelle to see it and then point it out to him.
“Without the luminol, you can’t see the blood on the floor, either,” his brother continued. “Plus, it looks as if someone tried to clean it up. There are swipes and smears. The CSIs might be able to determine if Webb was dragged from his office after he was stabbed and how his body was taken from the building. And that could give us more clues about the killer.”
“Yeah,” Dallas agreed.
“I know what you’re thinking. This new evidence could point to Kirby, but I don’t believe it will. Kirby’s well over six feet tall, and from the CSIs’ initial observations, they’re thinking the killer was someone shorter.”
Someone shorter would still implicate a lot of people. Including Declan and Joelle. But it would also point the finger at Sarah, Rudy and a dozen other kids who were living there at the time.
“I haven’t gotten to the best part of what they found,” Clayton went on. “When they were looking at the blood on the floor, they found a loose board, and one of them lifted it. There was a makeshift safe.”
Now that grabbed his attention. “What’s in it?”
“Don’t know yet. It’s locked, and it’s too heavy and big to lift out of the floor. Plus, they want to make sure it’s not booby trapped.”
Good point. Webb would have done something like that, but what was so important that he would want to seal it off in a secret safe?
Clayton huffed. “What the hell’s the matter with you? This is good news, Dallas. Or it could be, anyway. This is the first break we’ve had in the investigation.”
“I know. I, uh, just have, well, something else going on.”
“Not a good time for that,” Clayton countered. “I’ll call you back as soon as I hear anything else.”
Dallas mumbled a thanks, ended the call and tried to get to a place in his head where he could deal with the news about his daughter and everything else. He looked at Joelle, who was clearly waiting for him to say something.
Maybe that he could forgive her.
But Dallas wasn’t anywhere near that just yet. He groaned and turned to go back inside. However, he made it only a step before his phone buzzed.
“Owen,” he grumbled when he saw the name on the screen.
“I’ll talk to him,” Joelle insisted, and her teary voice was replaced with a huge amount of anger. Anger she’d no doubt aim at the man who’d sent that birth certificate.
Dallas was furious with Owen, too, but he had to accept that if Owen hadn’t delivered the bombshell, then he might have never learned about his and Joelle’s child.
He didn’t give the phone to Joelle even though she was motioning for it. Dallas pressed the button to take the call, and like Clayton’s, he put it on speaker.
“Did you like my little present, Joelle?” Owen immediately asked.
“You bastard.” She moved closer to the phone. “You’ve done a lot of slimy low-life things in your life, but this takes the prize. How did you know? How did you find out?”
“You can thank Lindsey for it,” Owen happily volunteered. “She hired a P.I. to dig into your past. Looking for dirt, I’d imagine, so she could use it to break us up. Little did she know she’d find this.”
And this was tearing at Dallas’s heart.
Yes, Joelle should have told him. Kirby, too. But he wasn’t pleased that Owen had used something like his baby’s birth certificate as a way to get back at Joelle.
“If I were you, I’d watch your back,” Dallas said to Owen. “Lindsey’s unhinged, if you ask me, and now that Joelle’s called off the wedding, Lindsey will probably think that’s her invitation to go after you. How far do you think she’ll go when you reject her?”
Owen didn’t respond to that. Yeah, it was a small victory, but Dallas was glad to get in that dig. Besides, he really believed that Lindsey could be dangerous,
and with Joelle out of the picture, maybe she’d aim some of her efforts and venom at Owen.
“Stay out of my life,” Dallas warned the man, and he jabbed the button to end the call.
He’d barely had time to put his phone in his pocket when it buzzed yet again. No profanity this time. He was too tired and too aggravated to curse, but if it was Owen, Dallas intended to find him and beat some sense into him.
But it was Clayton again.
“I hope this is good news,” Dallas said when he took the call.
“Sorry.” And with just that one word, Dallas heard the concern in his brother’s voice.
“What’s wrong?” Joelle asked before Dallas could.
“We’ve got a problem. A big one. You need to get out here to Rocky Creek. Fast.”
Chapter Fourteen
Joelle tried to focus on the phone conversation that Dallas was having with Clayton. It was his third call since the one on the porch back at the ranch. They’d left immediately after that, but Dallas had stayed in contact with Clayton, who was on the scene at Rocky Creek.
Where heaven knows what was happening.
Joelle still wasn’t sure what was going on, and Dallas still seemed to be gathering all the details. That’s why this call was no doubt important, but Dallas hadn’t put this one on speaker, so she could only hear his side of the conversation.
Which wasn’t telling her much.
Of course, she was partly to blame since she was having zero luck concentrating on anything other than what Dallas had learned about their baby.
Even now, all these years later, the pain felt fresh and raw. Like a huge wound that would never heal. She’d tried to bury that pain with work, but she hadn’t managed to do that. It was always there, just below the surface.
Now it was right on top again.
Dallas had said often he wasn’t the forgive-and-forget type. He wasn’t. And this was much more than he’d ever had to face.
He would never forgive her.
That broke what little of her heart wasn’t already broken. Sixteen years ago she’d resigned herself to the fact that she could never have Dallas, but it hurt to know that he would hate her for the rest of his life.
Dallas ended the call, and Joelle waited for news of why Clayton had insisted they come out to Rocky Creek. He didn’t volunteer anything, and his jaw muscles were set in iron again. Joelle wasn’t sure if that was because of the baby news or what Clayton had told him. Either way, it wasn’t going to be a pleasant evening.
“What’s going on at Rocky Creek?” she finally asked.
Dallas took his time answering and pulled in a weary breath. “In addition to the secret floor safe, the CSIs found blood on the wooden banister. They decided to photograph it and then remove pieces of it so they could swab underneath. Rudy burst in and told them to stop, that he wouldn’t let them destroy the place.”
“Oh, mercy.” Joelle added a groan.
“It gets worse. Rudy pulled a gun on the CSIs and ordered them out of the building. Now he’s holed up in there, threatening to burn the place down if he doesn’t talk to me.”
She shook her head. “Why you?”
“Who knows. He won’t say. Won’t talk to Clayton, either. He just keeps pointing the gun and demanding to talk to me.”
Joelle tried to come up with a logical reason for that demand, but she couldn’t think of one.
Unless Rudy thought that the evidence would incriminate him.
“Maybe the standoff is a ruse so Rudy can destroy any evidence that might be in the secret safe,” Joelle offered. “And he’s adding to that ruse by demanding to see you.”
Dallas paused as if considering that. “The safe is still locked. The CSIs couldn’t get it open, and there’s no indication that it’s been opened or tampered with in years. Besides, Clayton has Rudy in his sights.”
Since she’d read the background reports on all of Dallas’s foster brothers, she knew that Clayton had sniper training. “Clayton’s armed with a rifle?”
“Yeah. And if necessary, he’ll take Rudy out.”
Oh, God. Not another death. Joelle wasn’t especially fond of Rudy, but he was a human being and besides, he might be able to clear up who killed Webb.
Rudy might even confess to doing the deed himself.
That would solve some of their problems and would stop Dallas or Kirby from going to jail. Not her, though. She would still have to face charges of suppressing information about the knife. But a confession would be a huge start.
And then maybe Dallas and she could deal with everything else.
“I’m sorry,” Joelle whispered.
At first she wasn’t sure Dallas had even heard her, but when he tossed her a glance, she realized he had. Joelle figured that meant he wasn’t ready to talk about it. Maybe never would be. But she had to try.
“I’m trying to make myself remember that you were a kid yourself,” he said before she could say anything else.
Joelle held her breath. Waiting. But he didn’t say anything else for several long moments.
“I can’t put all of this on you,” Dallas added.
No. This was not where she wanted this guilt trip to go. “And I don’t want you to put it on Kirby, either. He loved you and wanted the best for you. Plus my new foster parents were telling me the same thing I was thinking—that if you knew about the pregnancy, it would ruin your life.”
“But they didn’t seem to mind that it’d ruin yours. Did they happen to mention that when they were advising you?”
The pain cut even deeper. It was so hard going back to that time and place. All those memories. Some precious. Some horrible. She’d been ill equipped to deal with everything she was feeling and had managed to push some of it deep inside.
It was all coming back. And Joelle had to wonder how she could cope with it all over again.
“My foster parents wanted me to put the baby up for adoption,” she said when she could gather her breath. “I, uh, said no, and eventually they agreed that I could stay with them, and they’d help me raise the baby.” That required another pause. “Then, of course, Amber didn’t make it.”
More silence. His jaw muscles stirred, and he kept his focus straight ahead when he turned onto Rocky Creek Road.
“I’m sorry for everything you went through, but you should have told me,” Dallas finally said, and his inflection let her know that he’d just closed the subject.
No forgiveness.
Not for her. And not for Kirby.
She hated that she’d put this wedge between them, but once this case was finished and she was out of Dallas’s life, Joelle figured Kirby could mend things. If the cancer didn’t take him first, that is.
Ahead, she saw the Rocky Creek facility, and even though the sun was setting, there was just enough light left for her to see the people milling around. Some CSIs in their uniforms. A couple of locals, too. Clayton was there, literally on top of a truck, and he had a rifle pointed at the building.
“Hell,” Dallas mumbled.
Like her, he probably didn’t want to deal with anything that involved rifles and standoffs, but apparently they had no choice.
When Dallas’s truck got closer, she saw the makeshift roadblock that had been set up with traffic cones. Sarah was standing next to one of the cones, her attention on whatever was happening inside.
Dallas stopped the truck, and they both got out.
“Rudy’s gone crazy,” Sarah informed them immediately. “He’s locked himself inside and won’t come out.”
Dallas looked past her at the man who was walking up the road from the building. He made a beeline for them.
“I’m Sheriff Bruce Shelton,” the lanky man greeted. He took a badge from his pocket, flashed it. He looked more cowboy than cop with his jeans, boots and Stetson, and he was wearing a gun in an old-fashioned hip holster.
“Dallas Walker,” he greeted back, and Joelle noted that he hadn’t included his title of marshal. Probably because h
e no longer had a badge. “And this is Joelle Tate from the governor’s office.”
“This way.” The sheriff motioned for them to follow him. When Sarah started to go with them, he shook his head. “Already told you to stay put. If you don’t, you’ll be the one facing charges.”
“But Rudy’s threatening to burn down the building,” Sarah protested. “I can’t let him do that. The place is part of my home. He has no right to even be inside.”
“We’ll deal with him,” Sheriff Shelton answered, and he kept walking.
Thankfully, Sarah stayed put, but she did continue to call out for them to stop Rudy.
“We have phone contact with Rudy,” the sheriff explained to them. “And your brother volunteered to cover the shot if it came down to it.”
Cover the shot. A sterile term for sniper duty. Of course, from everything she remembered about him, Clayton had a level head, and he wouldn’t shoot Rudy unless there was no other choice.
“Has Rudy destroyed any evidence?” Joelle asked.
“Not that we can tell. So far he’s stayed right in the entry near the stairs.”
Well, that was something at least, but it didn’t mean Rudy wouldn’t follow through on his threat to burn the place down.
When they approached the truck where Clayton was positioned, one of the men, a deputy, handed the sheriff a cell phone.
“Rudy, Marshal Walker just arrived,” the sheriff explained. “Miss Tate, too. Now say your peace to them like you said you wanted, and then let’s end this.”
“Dallas?” Rudy immediately said.
“I’m here.” Dallas moved closer to the phone. “Why’d you call me out here?”
“Because this is a setup.” Rudy’s words were slurred. “And I’m not going to jail for something I didn’t do.”
Dallas glanced around, probably to see if anyone knew what Rudy meant by that, but the sheriff, deputies and others just shook their heads.
“Rudy, what the hell are you talking about?” Dallas demanded.
“The so-called evidence these city boys are finding. Webb’s blood,” he clarified in a mocking tone. “Well, it was planted there, I tell you, and it was planted to set me up.”
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